Cannonballs, Clowns, & Cotton Candy
by Sarcastic Realist
Summary: They finally parted, joined hands yet again, and continued along the edge of the lake, tension eased by the consciousness of this new phase in their relationship. [MacStella]
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: I wrote this after seeing 'Blood, Sweat & Tears' yesterday on t.v. The cute storyline popped up in my mind, I thought I would post it. Hope you enjoy!_  
**

**Clowns, Cannonballs & Cotton Candy**

"I'm going home," Stella stated cheerfully, poking her head in the doorway. She half-swung around the doorframe as she waited for his response.

Smirking, he lifted his head and looked at her. "What's got you in such a giddy mood?"

Her grin stretched from ear to ear, lighting up her already dynamic blue eyes. "I had a good day," she retorted simply.

"Really…" he eyed her suspiciously, fighting the urge to smile. Her energy was infectious, he knew, and it was working its magic at that exact moment. "I thought Romeo and Juliet's story was rather depressing," he shrugged wryly, "But think what you like." He bent his head to finish up his paperwork, knowing full well that after his comment, there was no way she was going to leave.

"It's romantic, Mac, but you wouldn't know that if it hit you in the ass." She plunked down in the chair in front of his desk and rolled her eyes.

"Maybe not," he conceded, "But not everyone has to be like you."

She grinned. "I take offense!"

"You do not." This time, he couldn't stop the smile. He chuckled. "Go home."

"Okay." Jumping up, she added, "See ya on Monday. Don't stay too long, 'kay?"

"Yes, Mom."

/\/\

The sound of her phone ringing early Saturday morning made Stella want to murder it, although, she mused, that wasn't quite possible. She groaned as she groped for the cordless on her bedside table. "What?"

"I take it you aren't a morning person" was Mac's amused reply.

"Why," she groaned again, drawing the word out with a slight whimper, "Are you calling _so_ damnearly?"

"Get up, shower, and get dressed. I'm coming over."

"You can see me in my pyjamas then, 'cause I sure as hell am not getting out of bed," she snapped. "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm having a good day," he countered matter-of-factly. "Hurry up; I'll be there in half an hour."

"I hate you," she muttered just before he hung up the phone. Slamming down the phone on her dresser, she yawned and stretched lazily. Then she glanced at her alarm clock.

"SEVEN THIRTY?"

Dragging herself out of bed, she cursed under her breath and wrapped her robe on, heading for the shower. She blinked sleepily while washing her hair, and was finally waking up as she stepped out of her sauna of a bathroom and got dressed. Studying her open walk-in closet, she decided on beige khaki capris and a blue halter top. By the time Mac arrived, her hair was tamed, makeup was on, and he could smell coffee- strong coffee- brewing in her kitchen.

"Good morning."

"To you, maybe." Her blue gaze shot daggers at him. "You'd better have a good explanation for this, because I know how to murder you and get away with it if you don't."

"I brought breakfast." He held out a brown paper bag filled to the top with bagels, fruit, yogurt, cereal and donuts."

"Wow, you go all out, don't you?" she commented, eyes wide. "How much do you think I eat?"

He shrugged. "It's not just for the morning," he paused, surveying his surroundings. "Turn off the coffeemaker, grab your purse, and let's go." Narrowing his brow, he changed his mind and said, "On second thought, leave your purse. Come on."

With an expression of utter confusion, she did as he ordered, locked the door behind him, and followed him down the apartment steps and across the parking lot to his car. "Where are we going and what are we doing?" she demanded, taking the bag so he could unlock the doors. She set it down carefully in the backseat and slid in the passenger one beside him.

"You'll see," he answered mysteriously, and pulled out of the lot and onto the crowded NYC road. "You can sleep on the way, if you want," he added sympathetically when she glared at him. "It's up to you."

She glared at him once again, but leaned her head against the window and was soon fast asleep.

A smile lifted the corners of his lips, and his deep blue eyes twinkled at the thought of what she would think once they got to their destination.

_**A/N: This is a WIP, so please review if you want the rest! **_


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Thanks for the awesome reviews!_  
**

**Cannonballs, Clowns, and Cotton Candy... chapter 2**

"Stel," Mac shook his companion's shoulder gently. "Wake up, we're here." He didn't need to wait half a millisecond before her eyes flew open.

"Where are we?" she sat up excitedly.

He laughed. "Follow me." Getting out of the car, he waited for her to do so as well, locked the door, and let her look around.

"The Circus?" she whispered in disbelief. "You took me to the Circus?"

Nodding, he had a moment of panic, wondering suddenly if he had done something terribly wrong.

In an unexpected move, she turned to face him and threw her arms around his neck in an awkward hug. He embraced her warmly; curious to see what had brought this on. She drew back seriously, studying him. "I've never been to the circus," she admitted.

He grinned. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Grabbing her hand, he led her to the ticket booth and bought them day passes, and they went inside. Just as they walked into the tent, a cannon went off on the other side, shooting someone out of the end through an opening in the canvas.

Stella wrinkled her nose. "How do they do that?" she asked him, blue eyes filled with childlike wonder. "Wouldn't he land and break his neck or something?"

"It's our day off, remember?" he hissed in her ear teasingly, and became quiet. "Actually, I don't know."

"Hmm. I'm gonna find out one day," she mused thoughtfully, looking around, and appearing not to notice that he was still holding her hand.

"Where do you want to sit?"

"In the very front," she replied immediately. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Is that okay?"

"Whatever you want." They picked a spot off to the side, but in the front row, no less, and within minutes a clown approached them. It had a completely blue face; lips and everything. Even its suit was blue.

Stella giggled. "I think he's choking on something."

Mac snorted in a very un-Mac-like fashion. "Maybe he wants to give you a balloon."

Sure enough, the clown produced a large red balloon from its 'hiding place' behind his back, and he handed it to her without saying a word.

"What no blue one?" she teased.

The clown's eyes widened.

"I'm just kidding," she laughed. Mac shook his head disgustedly.

"Be nice to the poor clown," he scolded with a smile. She hung her head.

"I'm sorry."

Just then, something akin to an orchestra began playing, and two trapeze artists could be seen flying smoothly through the air.

Thoroughly captivated, Stella leaned forward and watched intently and did not take her gaze from the stage until the intermission. Her hand came up to her mouth in a gasp when she realized she had completely ignored her escort the whole time. "I'm sorry, Mac."

He chuckled. "I'm glad you're having fun." A young teenager stepped in front of them with a basket full of popcorn, cotton candy, peanuts, and water bottles. Mac bought two waters, popcorn, and a bag of cotton candy, making a face and handing the sticky confection to Stella. "Thanks," he nodded to the boy.

"Mac, this means a lot to me." Stella's curly brown hair swished around her shoulders as she twisted in her seat to squeeze his hand. "Thank you."

A smile appeared on his face. "I'm glad you're having fun," he repeated. "That was my goal."

Her expression was worth it, he concluded as the second half of the show started, and the lights flashed and the music played. Completely and entirely worth it.

_**A/N: Please review! **_


	3. Chapter 3

**_Sorry for the long wait. Please keep reviewing!_  
**

**Chapter Three**

Chattering animatedly about the show, Stella stopped only to breathe as they strode leisurely back to Mac's car.

The former Marine shook his head and chuckled, sliding into the driver's seat and waited for her to get in. "Do you mind a little bit of a drive before we have lunch?"

Her tirade halted abruptly and she stared at him in confusion before shaking her head and continuing to talk, climbing in beside him. "Oh my god, Mac, that was fun, thank you so much for taking me…"

He held back a smile, but, truth be told, he was delighted that she had such a great time. Pulling out of the parking lot, he found he was quite content to listen to the sound of her bubbly, lilting voice until they arrived at their next stop. "We're here." He parked the car in a space near the entrance of the park and got out. He reached into the backseat and hauled the bag between the two front seats, as well as a jean blanket that he bought years ago.

Her jaw dropped. "A picnic?"

All the way down the worn path to the quiet, sparingly populated lake and beach, she was quiet.

"Is something wrong?" he asked gently, spreading out the blanket and dropping the bag on the ground.

"No," she shook her head, "It's just- I dunno." She wrinkled her nose. "Why are you doing this?"

The question caught him off-guard, and he took a moment to respond. He shrugged. "You seemed to have a lot of fun while we were working that case yesterday."

She wasn't satisfied, he could tell. But then again, he mused, was she ever? He chuckled at the thought. "I like seeing you happy," he said honestly. "It makes me happy." She tilted her head to one side and simply looked at him. He shifted slightly under her gaze, though it wasn't all that intent, or even accusing, for that matter.

"Oh." She pursed her lips. "Okay." She was quiet as he smiled and began taking food out of the bag.

Introspection was a difficult thing to contend with for Mac Taylor. It sauntered into his mind when he least expected, and would stick with him for hours on end, causing him to lose hours of sleep- not that he slept much anyway, but in his opinion, that was beside the point. Introspection was not one of his favourite concepts, either. He had always been satisfied with the absence of it.

Then there was Stella. He chuckled. He wasn't even going to go there. She was pushy, always pressing him to be able to talk about anything, anytime. He wasn't like her in that way.

She was vibrant, colourful, dynamic, so full of life. Years back, when they could chat freely, before he closed himself off from the world and from her, they would talk for hours about just that. Anything and everything and nothing all at once.

A smile graced the corners of his lips as a rush of memories flooded through him, leaving him with an almost empty feeling, and he wondered why.

Then it hit him.

She had told him once. "You just don't get it, do you? We're sitting here, alive and breathing. And what's out there," she gestured out the window at the jam-packed roads of downtown New York. "I want to experience it, Mac, all of it. I want to live."

It was something akin to an epiphany, and yet it was so powerful the force of it nearly knocked him over.

It was simple. She wanted to live and experience life to its fullest.

And she wanted to do it with him.

_**A/N: I know, another short chapter, but the next one is longer, I promise.**_


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the beautiful, sunny afternoon was spent leisurely wading knee-deep in the clear, blue water, splashing each other— to Mac's mock-chagrin—and having relatively light conversations about life, love, and anything in between. Within that time, his hand had subtly found its way to hers, and their fingers were soon linked together. To anyone else on the beach, they quite possibly might have looked like two laid-back adults, but the casual form of closeness was rather intimate for them.

Stella wiggled her feet in the water absently, enjoying the feel of the sand between her toes. A small giggle escaped through her lips, and the look he gave her was one of bemusement. "Care to share?"

Her mouth curved up into a smile, bringing a sparkle to her eyes. "What is this?" He didn't see the sparkle, however, because her gaze refused to meet his own. It was, instead, on her prune-like toes in the water.

"Uh, sand?" He fought back the grin that threatened to break out on his face.

She snorted derisively. "Really? I never would've guessed. You're my new hero, Sherlock." There was a playful undertone in her reply, but sadness hid behind her eyes, which were now locked with his.

Over the thousands of times Mac Taylor glanced back at the first time he kissed the love of his life, each time he did, he swore that time stopped.

He leaned closer, giving her plenty of time to move away. She didn't. Blue eyes met green, oblivious to anything else around them. Needing no further prompting, he brushed his lips against hers, softly, sweetly, and all too briefly. He pulled away, hoping he did not just make the biggest mistake of his life.

She smiled again, and he kissed her once more, deeply, passionately. Her hand came up to his neck, drawing him closer, and he wrapped his arms around her slender waist, relishing the feel of how perfectly she fit in his arms.

They finally parted, joined hands yet again, and continued along the edge of the lake, tension eased by the consciousness of this new phase in their relationship. No words were spoken. Silence was enough.

/\\/\\

She slept on the way home. He resisted the urge to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear and snapped his eyes back to the road, reminding himself that it would do them no good if they got hit by a car on the way back.

Precious, was the word that came to his mind as he stole a glance at her. A peaceful smile was on her face, and her breathing was slow and steady. Her curl-covered head rested against the windowpane.

As he pulled the car into her driveway, her eyelashes fluttered, and she yawned. "Oh, we're home?"

He didn't bother correcting her on the fact that it was only her home, not his. "Yes. Thanks for paying so much attention to me during the drive," he teased, putting his keys in his pocket and getting out.

"I'm sorry." She yawned again and rubbed her eyes as she slid out of the car and walked to the door. Her keys jingled as she unlocked it and led him inside. "Do you want a drink?"

"I want pizza" was his all-explaining reply. Without waiting for her to speak, he dug out his cell and dialled a number he had clearly memorized. She laughed as he ordered curtly and hung up.

"I should probably find it somewhat odd that you have the number of a pizza place mentioned, but…" she trailed off, grinning.

Frowning petulantly, he said, "Oh, leave it be. I like pizza." He glanced around her living room. "Do you have any good movies?" He raised his eyebrows when she shook her head, laughing again.

"I have satellite," she offered. "Pay-per-view is really good."

He eyed her suspiciously. "No chick-flicks?"

"Deal. But… I get the remote."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Men _always _get the remote!"

"They do not. Fine, if I promise not to switch to the sports channel while we wait, will you let me have it?"

"Oh, I'll let you have it, alright." She grinned evilly and flung a pillow at his face, and squealed and ducked when it came flying back at her.


End file.
